365 days ago I entered my first bike race. I picked the last day of the Mt. Tabor Series as a birthday challenge to myself, just as the previous year I decided to complete Seattle to Portland as a challenge.

Sure, I’ve done plenty of brutal, long, hard rides in the last year, but I’ve never ridden for 57 miles without stopping. Like, not even a little stopping. No 15 minute rest breaks, no slowing down to wait for your friends, to bathroom stops, no freaking stops of any kind. None.Read More

I’ve never raced a criterium before, and while I know circuit races and Monday PIR have prepared me a little bit I’m still apprehensive. It’s a tough course with a wicked, badly banked, sharp right hand turn that threatens to take upon out if you pedal at the wrong time; the locals call it Carnage Corner for a reason. Plus there are 24 other women riding it at the same time, and the road is only so wide.

We have 25 minutes to sprint our legs off on the 1k course. My goals were to stay with the pack and not crash. Success! As a crit newbie I decided to stay toward the back and watch how other people rode the course, see what lines they chose, figure out where to move and what was dangerous. What I learned is that I need some practice! Trailing the pack is tiring work, especially on a course with some climbing and a straightaway into the wind.

In the last lap I decided to try my trusty “jump the pack from the back” trick at the finish but I was too far behind and came in 13th. Not quite enough sprint it seemed. What worked in Stage 1 has little effect here, but no matter since my time in the race is the same as the pack’s and my position overall doesn’t shift. I guess I need to learn some new tricks.

We remembered our Garmins. Jenn brought us a skewer for my trainer so I could warm up more easily before the race. I brought clothes to change into. 5:15am still came far too quickly, just 15 minutes before sunrise and about two hours before I really wanted to be awake. But with an 8am start time we had to be up so we could force down some food and coffee, muddle our way through race prep, and warm up.

There was wind. A lot of wind. I’d rather ride in the rain, all things being equal. 15-24mph gusts all morning that threatened to blow me off my bike, off the road, off a cliff, off a bridge, that ate my legs up when I thought I could rest. The kind of wind that makes you grateful for a course with a climb, because at least there I can be strong.

18 miles and 1,400 feet of climbing into the wind, on my own, no hiding in the pack, no break from the effort, just me to pull through. I was glad to have time trial bars and a helmet borrowed from friends. I’d pick up speed around a corner only to be slapped by the wind, but being more aerodynamic in descents really helped. At least everyone had to suffer through it the same. At least I passed a few people.

My unofficial time is 1:05:20. I should still be in the top ten, but now I’m 6 minutes behind the leader. We have a few hours to rest, then we race the Hood River Criterium – my first crit ever. Yikes!

We forgot our Garmins. We forgot the skewer for my trainer. I didn’t bring clothes to change into after the race because it wasn’t supposed to rain. At least we remembered our bikes, jerseys and race numbers, right?

It rained. A huge black cloud appeared right before our start time and loomed for the first 5 miles before dumping on us for 15 more miles. At times the spray from the wheel in front of me was oddly warm from a sun break heating the water on the road. My feet swam in my soaked shoes. I hadn’t brought a change of socks for after the race, either. By the last 3 miles of the race the road was dry, the sun came out, you’d never even know it had poured. And that’s spring in Oregon for you.

25 women lined up for the 24 mile stage 1 Cat 3/4 race, most of them I didn’t even know, many from out of state, some of them familiar faces from this season. It wasn’t the blistering pace I’d anticipated, everyone conserving energy for the next races. We have to do this again tomorrow, twice, and again on Sunday. Today I learned whose wheel to follow, who has a strong climb, who I can beat in a sprint.

I finished 4th, coming from the back of the pack up the little hill finish. I need to work on my placement and learn how to move up in the pack, especially heading into the finish. My rookie ways cost me a win for sure. I’m two seconds behind the lead rider, we’ll see if I can make that up.

But now we rest, eat, hydrate, sleep. For tomorrow we go again. And again.

Not one to take things slowly, I embarked on a week of more racing than I’d ever done in one month let alone in just 7 days. The day after our Otto Miller ride, Courtney and I noticed the Eugene Roubaix on the OBRA schedule and were inspired to register. This in addition to the three races I’d already planned for the week. Yikes!

Monday and Tuesday PIR marked my last races as a Cat 5. Winning races with few to no other racers really isn’t that satisfying, and the powers that be at OBRA felt I’d paid my dues and earned an upgrade. After winning my second Rose Garden Circuit Race (and third race win of the week) I was ready to put that new Cat 4 sticker on my racing license.

Winning Tuesday PIR ... in a field of 3.

And so I entered the Eugene Roubaix as a brand new Cat 4 in a combined 3/4/5 & Masters women field. I had no expectation that I’d do especially well and was prepared to get my newbie butt put soundly in its place. The 13 mile race route featured some lovely rolling hills, a little climb, and a 1.3 mile gravel segment I knew would be a challenge in a 3 lap race. We did some route recon in our warmup to determine just how bad the gravel would be only to find that there was just one clear line through the whole thing, which meant no passing, no attacks, no shenanigans until we were back on the pavement. Good to know.

14 women lined up for the race, including 5 from West Coast Women’s Cycling, 3 from Sorella Forte (including Courtney) and our pal Daphne from Hammer Velo. When you’re a solo rider in a race it’s good to find friendly faces, and I knew I could hang with the Sorellas and Daphne. It was clear from the start that WCWC had a plan to win and a protected rider in the pack. The first few miles were flat and gentle, everyone looking for their place in the pack and eventually lining up for a good position heading into the gravel. I made the mistake of getting behind someone I suspected would be nervous on gravel but had no time to find a new position. She let a huge gap open up between us and the lead group and I was afraid I’d lost the pack completely. By the time I hit the pavement again I had to sprint to catch up on the punchy berg that is Oak Road.

After the quick climb was a fun swooping descent, then a sharp right turn where we lost Sorella Cristine to a loose rear skewer that caused her whole wheel to seize up. Courtney, Daphe, Sorella Karin, and I held with the pack, letting a woman who turned out to be a triathlete pull us along the flat miles before we hit rolling hills. She pulled a lot in the race and I was glad for it! The rollers reminded me of Dutch Canyon, the kind you can punch through all day long. Then it was back to the start point for two more laps.

This time into the gravel I followed Courtney, a reliable steady wheel I knew I could trust. We lost a few more women to deep gravel and tactical errors here, including Karin, and found ourselves in a breakaway of 7 for the second lap. WCWC was down to three riders, but the triathlete, Daphne, Courtney and I were riding strong. Along one flat stretch we all looked left to see huge turkeys in one field, then several bounding llamas in another. It was like a cartoon! By the time we hit the rollers this time everyone was friendly and chatty, making light conversation and a few jokes as we enjoyed the sun and what was turning out to be a really fun race.

We stayed together solidly through that second lap and survived the gravel one more time to take on the final lap, losing one more WCWC rider along the way. I was surprised at how well everyone worked together to hang tight and it was clear that this would be a sprint finish. We weren’t pushing the pace too hard, pedaling comfortably at 20mph heading in to the rollers when Courtney decided we just needed to get moving. She pulled us for two miles in a slight headwind and added a more competitive tone to what almost became a friendly fast-paced group ride. I was third in the paceline, giving me plenty of protection from the wind and placing me behind WCWC’s protected rider. She was one point away from her Cat 3 upgrade and was positioned to win.

As we crested a tiny hill about 1k from the finish, Courtney looked back at me and yelled, “Go! Go!” I poured on the gas heading downhill and gapped the rest of the field a little bit, being sure not to lay too much out just yet. The right turn into the finish stretch took some speed out of us all and the WCWC rider caught up enough to have a chance to beat me. That was my cue to hit the GO button on my sprint finish, shift into a higher gear, and bury myself for 300m to take the win!

I couldn’t believe I’d won the race! I figured I’d finish in the top 10 at least, and it was clear the WCWC team was just as surprised they didn’t take the win. Their rider still got her upgrade points for coming in second, and they were all super nice to chat with afterward as we cooled down.

I know I couldn’t have won without Courtney on my team, even if we’re not on the same race team. When you’re an unattached rider you have to count on friends in the race to help you out, and you have to help them too. But it’s truly awesome to race and ride with your partner, and that’s not something a lot of people get to experience. That we get to experience races and wins and losses together is so cool!

I missed the first Rose Garden Circuit Race last week while I was in San Francisco, so I was really excited to give the course a try last night. Curves, climbs, off-camber corners, so fun!

The women’s 4/5 field was 9 strong and I had no idea what to expect from the group. At race start I struggled to clip in as I haven’t been riding with my road pedals in the last few weeks, so it took a moment to remember how to use them. Then we were off! I trailed the group a little through the first couple of corners, just getting my bearings and watching how they handled the course. The hairpin left turn at Reservoir 3 really was wicked, with some potholes and bad pavement in the turn in addition to being at the start of a climb. A few women struggled with their shifting on the first lap.

By the first climb I was up front with two other ladies, riding a nice line into the second lap. We stayed together back through the off-camber curves and into the hairpin turn, then one of them crashed on the turn thanks to that nasty pothole. I gapped the other front rider on the climb and had a solid lead at the start of the third lap. And that’s when I dropped my chain shifting into the big ring. Damn. I couldn’t get the chain up while pedaling and had to pull off and stop to fuss with it. Everyone passed me.

Chasing the pack I caught a couple of them on the climb and thought I had a chance to make it to the front again, then my chain dropped again on the fourth lap. I pulled over, everyone passed me.

I chased back on one more time, catching a few riders and had no idea where I was in the field at all. By this point I just wanted to make it through the final lap without a mechanical and finish strong. The last climb was tough after spending so much energy chasing the group in the last two laps, and I decided against sprinting for the finish because the only rider ahead of me was racing Masters 4/5 and wasn’t part of my field.

Lesson learned: when you’re your own wrench, you only have yourself to blame for race day mechanicals. It looks like I have some drivetrain maintenance work to do this weekend!

Unbelievably, I finished 4th out of 7. I’m looking forward to giving this course another try next week! It was technical but really fun!

I first heard of the Gentleman’s race several years ago and became quite intrigued. At first I thought they were completely crazy and anyone attempting to do one a little wrong in the head, but then I started digging deeper. Reading race reports, looking at pictures, checking the routes, and talking to people who had done them. Crazy? Absolutely, but also an experience, and challenge, you will never forget. My interest in this race evolved into slight obsession and I became determined to ride one. It took two years to get into shape and get on a team, but I rode my first Gentleman’s race in August of 2011. They notoriously fall on one of the hottest day of the summer and over a grueling 100+ mile course are beyond challenging. I still think it was the hardest ride I have ever done. They are a poster child for Rapha’s image and motto “glory through suffering.” Gentleman’s races equal suffering.

Fast forward to March, 2012, we are invited to San Francisco to ride an inaugural all women Gentleman’s like race. A team is recruited, plane tickets and hotels are reserved, we are committed. I am thrilled and nervous, as we have been riding, but not the distance or the elevation this ride will be. Stacy and I turn our spring riding plan into our spring training plan. Every weekend we are out on the bikes, but now we need to get in long miles, climbing, and, of course, gravel. Luckily Donnie’s VeloDirt ride up Dalles Mtn was scheduled and we rode the beautiful gravel route on dry and sunny days in March where it was pouring in Portland. I’m feeling okay about our training but not great. During the last 2 weekends before the race I kept bonking on rides around mile 60 and then once at mile 33. Not a good sign if I’m going to ride 100+ miles.

With one week before the ride, sickness and injury plague our team. We drop from 6 rides to only 3. Luckily last minute another team had to withdraw from the race and we make plans with some ladies from Metromint to form a more complete team. Racing aside, all of us just want to ride. Day of the race we turn out as 5. Tonya, Stacy and I are the Sorella contingent. Korina and Ashley are our local Metromint course masters. The route was announced a week and a half before the ride and it looks beautiful. We are the 3rd seeded team and roll out of the Rapha Cycle Club at 8:10 onto the streets of San Francisco. We make our way to the Golden Gate Bridge and cross into Marin County. We ride through Sausalito with very little traffic. The day is beautiful and I’m able to take a moment to look out onto the bay where the sun glinted tide is slowly lapping at the shore and birds are moving through the metallic haze of water meets land miles away on the east bay.

At Mill Valley we turn off the flat pedestrian path and start our ascent of Mt Tamalpais. First up a street called Summit, which someone says boasts 20% grades (although probably more like 8%). Soon we cross a gate onto Old Railroad Grade, the looming gravel climb to the top. The gravel is great and I’m feeling great, it’s nice to be away from houses and traffic, the view south of the city and the bridges is stunning in the still morning haze. I’m cruising and loving the climb, but realize I am all alone and definitely need to be sharing this view with my teammates.

Soon team DNF rides by with their 6 members and then right as I decide to pee 3 guys, who must be oblivious because they asked if everything was okay. Shortly after I see Tonya making her way, she informs me Ashley had gotten a flat, rats. Tonya and I ride up to a picnic table at a mid-point and take in the view, get our photo taken by the guys who I peed in front of.

Tonya decides to ride on and I wait for Stacy, Korina, and Ashley. Soon enough the four of us continue our climb, but are plagued by yet another flat! Ashley is riding racing tires that are just not cutting it on the gravel. I change the tire for her all while planning a contingency plan if it happens again….swap Stacy’s front tire for her rear and hope that doesn’t flat… Luckily it held and we mosey up to the top where we regain forces with Tonya and snag water from a support car one unnamed team (Tibco) has out. The following 15 miles from the top of Mt Tam, roller-coastering Bolinas Ridge, along Alpine Lake and into Fairfax were phenomenal. Big screaming rollers with ocean views, meadows full of flowers, never-ending descents and gradual climbing with lake views left me with a permagrin. See!??

At Fairfax (mile 36) we catch a water break and ride past Sorella café and make a note that we must return for a photo. (We will have to do this another trip, which there definitely will be!) The riding from Fairfax north until our turn off at Hicks Valley is uneventful in a way that 20 miles of seemingly effortless pedaling pass and the sun moves in the sky, insects buzz by your helmet, ravens float above, and robins sing on posts along the road. At Hicks Valley we come upon the Rapha team whom we had been trading paces with since Mt Tam and for awhile we all ride together along sweeping flawless tarmac, amidst eucalyptus trees, bubbling creeks, and several vans photographing the ride. It was surreal riding next to a car at 20 mph while they drove in the left hand lane. Stealing pedal strokes and effortless 22 mph riding was short lived as the road soon turned upward with a vengeance and the Strava QOM challenge started up the Marshall Wall. At first this climb didn’t seem so bad, it was punchy at the base and then mellowed into a steady climb. I thought I was at the top where the photo vehicle was parked and the driver and the photographer were on the roof dancing and encouraging everyone. Quickly my premature relief faded and I looked upward where the road continued. After a pitchy final section I reached the top where baby coca colas and views of Mt Tam 50 miles away soothed my already pretty pleased spirit. At this point we check in and in the back of the car is the “leaderboard” I see that Upper Echelon, who started last and an entire hour after us has somewhere passed us and been through this spot over a half hour ago. Whoever was manning the “board” told us they didn’t even stop and were “all business.” I guess as defending champs and having the pressure of starting last they took on the challenge and crushed it. Since we were not riding this competitively, we spent some more time refueling before saddling up again for a nice descent down to the coast. Ocean awaited us in Marshall and so did wafting smells of barbeque from the few restaurants advertising oysters.

The remainder of the ride, almost 50 miles, was back on Hwy 1. We rolled along the coast and through the woods. Toward Stinson Beach the road turned completely flat and everything in my body was screaming. I couldn’t get comfortable on the bike, my chamois was rubbing, my shoulders were on fire. I was a hot mess and here we are riding right along the coast, where sea lions had beached themselves, pelicans were feeding, the sun was warming my skin, the wind was blowing off the water. I should have been in paradise, but I couldn’t enjoy it and was counting down the seconds until we could be done with the ride. Thankfully Stacy pulled off at the end of Stinson beach for a quick stretch before we started off on our last big climb back over to Sausalito. I chomped several Bloc shots and refilled my water. When the road turned upwards at mile 92 and we were moving again, I was a whole new person. The climbing felt great, the views were amazing. Stacy and I stop at what we think is the top of the climb, but as soon as we get moving again and the road sweeps back around to the left we see more climbing in front of us, but the Rapha team had recently past us and instead of dreadful climbing ahead I had the most picturesque view. All 6 riders evenly spaced in matching kits were climbing steadily up a switchback along a white railing, blue skies above them, down below cliffs with the ocean crashing. In that moment it was the perfect cycling moment. We catch up with Ashley and Korina after these two fairly substantial climbs at mile 97 and they tell us there is one more climb, but it is gradual and not too bad. I think they were trying to be nice to us, because it was not either! It was another 2 miles of climbing, 600 ft of elevation and grades that crept from 9% to 10%. I was suffering, but once I reached the top I recovered really quickly and like childbirth only recall the outcome being worth the pain and possibly wanting to do it again. It took us a long while to descend back to Sausalito, as there was a ton of traffic on this sunny and warm holiday weekend. Once into Sausalito we bounded slowly up to the Golden Gate where some of the most treacherous riding of the day would occur. The pedestrian traffic was all routed on only one side of the bridge. We rode very slowly and had to make our way through two-way traffic of throngs of tourists capturing photo memories and more tourists wobbling their way across on rental bikes. We all made it safely, save for one close call, across the bridge and rolled into the Rapha Cycle Club as the complete team of 5 we started as.

We didn’t go out to win the race, nor did we come in last. It was an experience to be shared by each and every rider and each team. Herein lies the beauty of these rides. The juxtaposition of the first team to start, last team to finish and last team to start, first team to finish. A team destined for lantern rouge, spending enough time on the course to chase the sun across the sky. Another team riding their legs out, with nothing to win, only the glory of an unsanctioned race and the experience with 5 of their teammates. Either experience will live on. With only 5 miles of gravel, this wasn’t the gentleman’s race I was expecting. I was prepared for suffering and brutal grinding must-stay-seated never ending gravel climbs. Yet, 115 miles and 9,000 ft of climbing is still an undertaking no matter how you slice it. Most of all sharing the experience with a team that rode together, stayed together, and took care of each other was crowning glory on a day full of adventure.

When Courtney rode with her bike team, Sorella Forte, in the 2011 Rapha Gentlemen’s Race last August and returned with tales of wicked gravel, exhausting miles, too little water, and more gravel, I was positive Rapha’s crazy unofficial epic races were not for me. Why would I do that to myself? Fast forward to March 2012 when Sorella Forte got the invitation to ride in the inaugural 100+ mile ladies only Rapha Women’s Prestige race in San Francisco, an unofficial, unsanctioned, and unsupported ride/race done for the glory and love of cycling. A team of six had to commit quickly, and I was on the roster since I’d already be in SF for a conference. We had two RGR alumnae, two women in training for the Leadville 100, a seasoned cyclocross racer, and me. I’m just a Cat 5, man.

We had six weeks to turn our regular race and ride plans into a training schedule. Crap.

Five days before the race we lost half of our six woman team to injury and illness. Double crap. Gone were the Leadville 100 ladies and one RGR alumna. We spent the next three days scrambling to find new teammates, and got really lucky when Metromint’s team bailed out leaving us a few women who still wanted to ride.

Plane tickets in hand and bikes packed into boxes, Courtney, Tonya and I flew to San Francisco to meet two new teammates from the local team Metromint. I’d spend 7+ hours on a bike with three people I’d never ridden with, two of whom I’d never met. Good news: they’re all really nice women! More good news: the SF ladies knew most of the route and could navigate through town!

Race start times were determined by team strength, and of the 13 teams that made it to the race we started third at 8:10am on a gorgeous, sunny Saturday morning. We may have been the only team of 5 to ride, everyone else had teams of 6. The five of us had already agreed that we were in this to finish, not to win, and wanted to enjoy the ride as a team. As the day went on, it seemed that about half of the teams were racing, the rest of us just out for an awesome century on a beautiful day. We didn’t have any pros, we weren’t a development team, had no sponsor or local support vehicles to meet us with water, and Ashley and Korina from Metromint were our most experienced racers as Cat 3s.

GAME ON.

Departing from the Rapha Cycle Club in the Marina District we had to get out of town, cross the Golden Gate Bridge without hitting tourists, keep from getting ticketed in Sausalito, and make our way to the foot of Mt. Tamalpais to begin a 2,500ft climb. This is where my rear dérailleur had a panic attack and kept slipping gears, not a good sign at only 12 miles in to the ride. By the time we hit gravel I was shifting more smoothly and settled into the 5 mile gravel grind.

We were all kicking ass on the gravel when Ashley, a Metromint teammate, got a pinch flat after an especially rocky section. At least it meant we could pause and take in the views (awesome!) while we got the new tube sorted out. Then she suffered a second flat a mile later, same wheel as before. Three teams passed us. Lesson learned: if you are riding on any gravel, use really solid tires. Continental Grand Prix 4 Seasons are the only way to go. Trust me.

At the end of the gravel we caught up with the Tibco and Rapha teams, snagged a little water thanks to Tibco’s local support car, and were off to some amazing descents as we wound down Mt. Tam into Fairfax. Yellow flowers blossomed on the hillside, their perfume heady in the warming air. We rolled along a lake, across a river, into town to get more tubes and water. Somehow, Upper Echelon’s team passed us like ninjas on bikes and we never saw them for the rest of the day.

Out of Fairfax we caught a ride on the Rapha train, high tailing it at 25mph outta town and back into some rolling hills. We realized we’d accidentally dropped Tonya on Sir Francis Drake Blvd., so we waited a minute before rolling on through Nicasio Valley. I didn’t know at the time that this was the longest ride and greatest amount of climbing she’d ever done in one ride, but I knew she’d be there at the end with us all. We were in this as a team, to finish together and have fun above all else!

We played leap frog with the Rapha team for the rest of the day, affording us the time to chat with some of them and catch a little wind break while we were at it. What a great group of ladies! I seriously have a crush on all of them and the way they ride: as a team no matter what, having fun on their bikes. And they’re nice! We rode with them for 20 miles to Marshall Wall, a 1.4 mile climb that was part of the day’s Queen of the Mountain competition.

I took off up the initial 8% climb because that’s just how I roll, hoping that if I got enough of a jump the rest of the group wouldn’t catch me easily. Could it be that I’d be faster than Cindy Lewellen? I was, but only for two minutes, then she caught me. Then she passed me. I rode alone, not sure how hard to push given we had 50 miles left for the day and knowing I wouldn’t be QOM. At the top of the climb I was in 10th place out of 31 in the competition, which feels like QOM to me considering I was up against pro riders, development team riders, and the indomitable Cindy. Seriously, that woman can climb for miles and miles, it’s impressive.

We wound down the hillside toward Highway 1 and the Pacific Coast, riding like a real team for a good stretch all the way through Point Reyes. Along the coastal roads I felt really strong, probably the result of a tail wind, and thought perhaps we’d be back in the city sooner than anticipated. We saw colonies of sea lions sunbathing on sand bars, pelicans, birds wheeling in the sky. Sun beat down on us and it was wonderful. I have an amazing sunburn on my calves to show for it.

The funny thing about having a 2,500ft climb on a ride is that it dwarfs all other elevation gain, giving you a false sense of the terrain. What looks like a tiny hill turns out to be a pretty nasty climb at 80 miles. Leaving Stinson Beach after a quick stretch break I had no idea what we had ahead of us. To my right: amazing ocean views! In front of me: climbs that just won’t stop, on a road full of cars that wanted to go fast. We were decidedly not going fast.

By the final climb my rear dérailleur was acting up again, leaving me to grind out the last mile in a lower gear than I’d like. But the descent was so worth it! Eucalyptus lined the road, scenting the air as we zipped down the road at 38mph. I felt rejuvenated and ready to take on the final miles back into Sausalito, across the bridge, back to the cycle club.

Riding across Golden Gate Bridge at 6pm on a sunny Saturday is a terrible idea. Pedestrians, tourists taking photos, children meandering, people on rental bikes pedaling precariously down the sidewalk. After 105 miles this was the most dangerous part of the ride. Mere feet from getting off the bridge a tourist on a rental bike crashed right in front of me into a chain link fence, not wearing a helmet, and sheepishly muttering an apology as she wobbled back into the fray. I made a promise not to complain about commuting across the Hawthorne Bridge for at least a month.

AND DONE.

Rolling into the cycling club we were welcomed with cheers and applause, everyone celebrating our finish and accomplishment. We weren’t first by a long shot, but we weren’t last, and most importantly we were still a team of five cyclists finishing together, having fun and celebrating the joy of the ride. Everyone received Rapha cycling hats to commemorate the adventure! We stuffed our faces with delicious flatbread sandwiches, uploaded our ride data to Strava, and started dreaming about our next ride.